


History is Just Memory Written Down

by sarathechimera



Series: FE3H Wank Week 2020 [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, F/M, FE3H Wank Week, Far Future, Immortality, Love, Love Letters, Mild Sexual Content, Pining, dimileth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25860589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarathechimera/pseuds/sarathechimera
Summary: In time's flow, memories become history. That history can be shaped to suit the tastes of whomever is telling it and, if artifacts are not maintained, the scene can be read with glaring omissions and absent players that shaped the very world we know around us.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Series: FE3H Wank Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872448
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47
Collections: Wank Week 2020





	History is Just Memory Written Down

**Author's Note:**

> And now for something completely different. Could it be that I've written something with the Mature tag and not the Explicit? And can it be that I've written it for Wank Week? 
> 
> Part 5 for FE3H Wank Week 2020 - the prompt is "Pining"

I’ve never met someone like her before. When we are together, it always seems like she is a million miles away even when she is looking right at me. We’ve been seeing each other for five years now and time has only confirmed what I knew when I first met her, I’m going to marry her. 

This is the first year that she’s let me come with her on her visit to Fhirdiad for the annual King of Lions festival. She is completely obsessed with DAB the First. I took her to a biopic about him on one of our first dates. She said the historical inaccuracies made her blood boil. I never liked history much, but I can listen to her talk about it for hours. 

The line to pay respects to King Dimitri is so long that we’ll be waiting for hours to get in. I thought we’d get to enjoy some time to talk but she’s been so quiet since we got here. For someone who’s probably read every book ever written about the guy, maybe this is an emotional day for her. She looks sad to me. 

I didn’t bring anything to put on the dais with his coffin, but I guess people go all out. They’ve got giant bouquets and wine and food and candles to leave. Kind of a waste of resources I think. I mean, he’s dead, he can’t use any of it. 

King Alexandre looks bored too, sitting up there with the archbishop and his wife. Bee’s been staring at him since we got close enough to see. I asked her how he compares to the old king, but she didn’t really have much to say about it. 

When it was our turn at the front of the line, Bee kissed the letter she’d written before adding it to the huge pile of offerings. I wanted to ask her what happens to all of those things people have left on the platform, but she looked so sad. Sadder than I’ve ever seen her. She looked like her heart was breaking. 

I don’t think that I ever want to see her like that again. Even if it takes the rest of our lives, I’m going to make sure that she is always smiling. 

_My Beloved Heart,_

_Not a day goes by that I do not think of you and yearn to hear your voice. I long to see you with every breath I take my sun, my beating heart._

_I do not know where you are or if there is anything left of you in the universe… haven’t I thought a thousand times of resting beside you and yet, the thought of no one alive who knew you seems all the more cruel than countless days of loneliness._

_Another precious thing that Rhea took from me – an eternal rest with you._

_You live every time I remember your smile, your bravery or the feel of your skin beneath my fingertips. For hundreds of years, I have conjured you beside me and the facsimile of you has continued to love me. My hands as your proxy have traversed the unchanged landscape of my body a million times and I have come intoning your name a million times more. I ache to recall the scent of your hair in my face as the weight of your body settles on top of me, the feel of your thighs moving between my own. The distant memory of you wakes my body and stirs my desires until I have no choice but to succumb to them._

_Even so, centuries have dulled you in the temple of my mind; more and more my recollections become less vivid. More and more my palm at my breast and my fingers between my legs are distinctly my own. Time has proven to be cruel and untamable before my ancient magic and it continues onward in the face of my sadness._

_I am so lonely, my heart._

_I struggle to recall the exact texture of your golden hair or the sand-paper feel of your throat beneath my lips at the end of the day. Please forgive the weakening of my spirit._

_He is not you. He could never be you. When he touches me, when I let him touch me, I think only of you and the mastery you hold over the pleasures of my body. The way that you pillaged my heat in the palm of your hand remains unrivaled by any still living._

_Even as his fingers push deep within me, I guard my tongue or else it will be your name that forms on my lips as I let him lead me to come. The callouses on his thumbs remind me of you as they brush across my breasts and his tongue is ravenous like yours._

_Perhaps it is cruel to let him love me; to let him think that I love him. And perhaps I do, in a way. Only time in its infinite flow will tell._

_I will come again next year and forever. You remain my beating heart and I your beloved._

_B_


End file.
